


Cat Burglar

by dgalerab



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Politician Kuroo, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Thief Kenma, side bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab
Summary: Kenma has somehow been roped into robbing the world's most boring politician (except it turns out he's not all that boring at all).





	Cat Burglar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curiouslylazy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouslylazy/gifts).



> I had so much fun writing this, honestly. I could write punk criminal Kenmas for the rest of my life.

Kozume Kenma is not having a great day.

For one, he’d partnered up with a group for his latest job. In general, he doesn’t partner up with anyone out of principle, but this job was wildly lucrative and simple on the surface: steal a precious heirloom from a billionaire for his estranged brother. There wasn’t even any need for a fence, and given that the estranged brother had only hired the group as a whole,Kenma would be untraceable even if someone made a mistake.

Of course, the group had half-assed the plan, leaving Kenma right in the middle of a house on lockdown. It’s not that Kenma has anything against half-assing things. He does it all the time. But at least when he half-asses things, he makes sure they’ll _work_ , however precariously.

Instead, Kenma has to clamber through the airvents and then run from several heavily armed goons, and he _hates_ running. And he’s also bruised his hands from pounding out all the vent covers, and they’re sore.

At least they hadn’t screwed him over on the pay. Half a million in cash means he’ll be able to get by without any hard jobs for several months, maybe a year if he pays attention to his budget when buying new equipment for later jobs. He’ll probably get bored before the year is up, though, so there’s not much point.

He sighs as he opens up the gate to his loft, pushing his motorcycle against the nearest wall.

“Get out,” he says.

A dark figure moves on his couch. “Well,” it says. “You’re even less pleasant than usual, Kozume-san.”

“Kenma,” Kenma sighs, flipping on the light. “And like I said, get out.”

Sprawled over his couch in a tight, dark grey turtleneck is Akaashi Keiji, cleaning his gun carefully with his long fingers. Kenma doesn’t like him one bit, but somehow he’s the closest thing he has to a friend anyway.  “I have a job for you,” Keiji says.

Kenma sighs, taking off his gloves and inspecting his knuckles and fingers. They’ll be sore for a while. “I just got off a job,” he says. “I’m on vacation for at least 6 months.”

“You could do this and be on vacation for a year,” Keiji says. “I’ll even buy you whatever equipment you want.”

Kenma crosses his arms. “I don’t like jobs where people die,” he says.

“I know,” Keiji says, screwing the silencer onto his gun and setting it down. “That’s why I’m coming to you.”

Kenma stares at him blankly.

“I… would rather not kill anyone in this situation.”

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “Did your conscious kick in?” he asks.

“I’ve always had one, in fact,” Keiji snaps. “That’s why I only take jobs that I don’t usually mind, but I’ve done some digging and… this didn’t apply after all.”

Kenma sits on the coffee table, elbows on his knees and cocks his head.

Keiji groans, sitting up. “They hired me to acquire a file. I don’t know what’s in it, just that it would be beyond the abilities of most people to steal it without killing the owner.”

“And?” Kenma asks.

“And…” Keiji says. “He’s a politician, so I thought I wouldn’t mind, but…” He pulls out a file. “Look at his record.”

Kenma takes the file and opens it. There’s a long list of bills that Kenma doesn’t feel like reading and a picture attached to it. The guy certainly doesn’t look like a politician, or even someone who’s ever seen a hairbrush in his life, but he is technically wearing a tie.

“He’s attractive,” Kenma guesses.

“No,” Keiji sighs. “I’m not that shallow. Look at what he’s done.”

Kenma sighs. He’s done too many things he doesn’t like doing today to just up and do another, but it seems he has no choice, because quite frankly, he doesn’t have the combat experience necessary to physically remove Keiji from his loft. He scowls at Keiji, but reads through the list anyway.

“He does a lot of charity,” Kenma says, finally.

“You only read half of it, didn’t you?” Keiji mutters.

Kenma tosses the file back into his lap to say _Take it or leave it._

Keiji sighs, rolling his eyes. “He was studying to be a pediatrician before he switched professions, and since then he’s been lobbying heavily for better protections for children. I’m assuming the only reason someone could want anything from him is because he provoked them. Honestly, I have the sneaking suspicion I’d be gunning down the most honest politician in Japan for some sleazebag making money off of children’s suffering, which sounds… unpleasant.”

“Quit the job, then,” Kenma says. “If you’re so opposed, then why give the sleazebag what he wants in the first place?”

“Because good money is good money,” Keiji says. “And frankly, so long as I’m not killing the man, I don’t particularly care that much.” He eyes Kenma. “Don’t tell me you do, Kenma, because I’m not falling for that.”

Kenma squints at him.

“You can have 75 percent,” Keiji says. “Even that will give me enough money for a good while.”

“80,” Kenma says, just to see the sour face on Keiji’s face.

“Fine,” Keiji says.

Kenma blinks at him. He’d expected for Keiji to at least try to stay at 75 for a few minutes or so.

Keiji is hiding something.

Kenma takes the folder warily. “Alright,” he murmurs. “80 percent, and I’ll steal your folder for you. Now will you get out?”

-X-

Kenma groans.

Keiji has sent him a whole library of information about their target. If Kenma gave a damn about this job, he’d probably really appreciate it, but as is, he took one look at the length of documents and went back to playing Zelda.

Keiji calls around noon, then calls again when Kenma refuses to answer. Kenma turns off his phone.

He can’t play much longer. A job is a job, even if he’s still annoyed at Keiji for dragging him into it. If he agreed to do it, he’ll do it.

He pulls up the files on his TV, yawning. He reads about half a paragraph before he becomes worried he’ll die of boredom, planting his nose on his forearm as he scrolls through to find some blueprints. He’ll probably be able to concentrate better once he’s got a plan that needs details to smooth out. He settles upside down, throwing his legs over the back of the couch as he uses his controller to pan through the blueprints.

Kuroo Tetsurou is possibly the world’s most boring politician. He has a simple house in a small suburban neighborhood. He has one bodyguard. Keiji’s notes are suspiciously lacking over the body guard, essentially just “military experience, paying back a favor.” Kenma looks him up himself, and is startled into actually sitting up and reading properly.

He’s starting to wonder if Keiji just chickened out, because this guy might be one of the few people who could beat Keiji in combat ability. He’d served several years on some of the top special task forces in the US Marines, then as a private investigator for a few more, and now he’s one of the highest billed bodyguards in the _world_.

_What kind of favor…?_ Kenma thinks as he turns his phone back on and calls Keiji.

Keiji picks up with a terse, “What.”

“You lied to me,” Kenma says. “You gave up because of Bokuto Koutarou, didn’t you?”

“There… were a combination of things,” Keiji says. “I merely omitted information.”

Kenma is silent.

“He shot me,” Keiji mutters. “I don’t think he saw my face, but he’ll be looking for me.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get past this guy?”

“I…” Keiji says, and Kenma can just about hear his quiet rage over the phone. “I have no idea.”

He’s still holding something back, because Keiji always has at least fifteen ideas, even if they’re bad. Kenma pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got something,” he mutters. “And you’re going to owe me for a lifetime. Goodbye.” He hangs up and sits back, blowing some hair out of his face.

_Shit_.

-X-

Kenma hasn’t had to dress like a normal person in about a million years. No one cares if an anonymous thief walks around barefoot in hoodies and shorts all day. Does he even have any shoes outside of boots, the ratty slippers he uses to do his shopping, and climbing shoes?

He tugs a t-shirt and jeans on and calls it a day. The shirt is a little loose, but still tight enough around his neck to cover the soulmate mark on his shoulder. The boots seem a little ridiculous, but they look better than the slippers, so he pulls them over his jeans and tries not to think about it.

He hasn’t had to interact in person for a job in… well, since he’d met Keiji.

He better not pick up any more unshakeable acquaintances.

He inspects his face in the mirror. He hasn’t washed his hair in a long time. He puts on some quick eyeliner. Subtle eyeliner and piercings make his messy hair look intentional, so he’ll probably get by without judgmental looks. He grabs a jacket, grimacing at the holes in it, and heads out.

Kuroo’s office is a lot easier to stake out than his home. Kenma doesn’t think there’s anything he could do to look suburban, but he can coast in and out of stores near Kuroo’s office, watching to see if he leaves the building.

If there’s one thing Kenma is good at, it’s going unnoticed, even if there are five holes in his jacket.

He finds himself reading manga at a nearby bookstore, peeking in the mirror every so often.

Kuroo walks by a few minutes later. Kenma watches him carefully. He seems to be going to the nearest coffee shop, just a few doors down. Bokuto trails after him from an inconspicuous distance. If he wasn’t such a conspicuous person himself, Kenma might have missed him entirely.

He buys the manga, taking his time, then walks over to the coffee shop, pointedly not looking at Kuroo as he walks towards the counter, flipping through the manga. He can see him from the corner of his eye, still picking up his coffee from the counter.

He bumps into him smoothly, knocking his coffee over his shirt.

He feigns mortification, snatching up a napkin and quickly patting Kuroo’s shirt dry. “I’m… so sorry,” he mumbles. It’s annoying to have to play the nervous guy, but Kenma is bad at eye contact and talking to new people anyway so it’s the easiest ploy.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo laughs, taking over the napkins. “It’s just a little coffee.”

“Can I… buy you a new coffee?” Kenma asks. He drags his eyes up. Kuroo’s grin doesn’t fit his profile at all. He looks smug, if anything, not like a good guy.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kuroo says. “I can…”

Kenma touches his fingers to Kuroo’s shoulder. He hardly ever pays attention to grifting techniques that aren’t good for _not_ getting noticed, but he’ll have to get past Bokuto somehow. The fake background that Kenma has made for himself should hold up, he just has to worm his way near Kuroo. “It’d make me feel better?” he mumbles, cocking his head softly.

Kuroo’s shoulders relax. “Sure,” he says.

_So he is a softie_ , Kenma thinks, finally allowing himself to drop his eyes. This will be too easy. “How do you like it?” he asks.

“I got it,” Kuroo says. He waves down the barista with a quick, “Another coffee, I guess.” He grins at Kenma. “On him, this time.”

He lets Kenma pay, then leans on the counter. “So uh… how to you take it?” He blinks. “I mean like it! Sorry, that wasn’t… I wasn’t hitting on you or anything I just… uh…”

_Boringly easy,_ Kenma thinks. And after Bokuto had made this seem interesting. “Vanilla latte,” he murmurs, pushing his hair behind his ear as though he’s nervous.

“Then a vanilla latte, on me,” Kuroo says, grinning like he’s won or something. “So what’s your name?”

“[…]”

“I’m Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Kenma nods shyly and then goes silent.

Kuroo waits for their coffees and hands Kenma’s to him. Kenma takes it, peering up at Kuroo through his eyelashes.

“So what were you reading so intensely?” Kuroo asks with a chuckle, buttoning his jacket up so the coffee stains aren’t as visible. He sits at the nearest table and lets Kenma pull up his own chair.

“Oh,” Kenma mumurs. “Just some manga.”

Kuroo leans forward onto his elbows, taking the manga in his hands. “Ooh, romance,” he says.

Kenma shrugs, trying to act embarrassed. It had been mostly to keep up his cover, but given the direction this seems to be going, he’s incredibly lucky that it’s romance.

It’s not exactly the worst sort-of-date Kenma’s ever been on. He’s had to stab his way out of dates more than once, and given that he’s playing up the timid, he can’t blame Kuroo for reacting to him like a scared, scrawny little animal, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to tease Kenma out of his shell with little grins and prodding.

He’s boring as hell, and annoyingly persistent. That’s likely what’s gotten him in so much trouble – unrelenting, dim honesty doesn’t go very far in politics.

“Can I give you my number?” Kuroo asks finally, and it’s a good thing too, because Kenma is going to fall asleep right here if he has to blush himself through another one of Kuroo’s attempts to make him comfortable.

“Oh,” Kenma stammers. “I don’t know…”

“Please?” Kuroo asks. “I don’t want to come on too strong, but you’re cute, and I’d like to talk to you some more.”

Kenma chews at his lip. “I guess,” he murmurs, handing over his burner phone.

Kuroo types in his number and hands it back with a grin. “I’ll text you, ok?”

“Sure,” Kenma says. He put a cat emoji next to his name. What an idiot.

“See you,” Kuroo says, standing up and leaving.

Just in case, Kenma checks the phone for bugs, because he’s seen stupider people put up better acts, but there’s nothing. Kenma is just getting a way overdue stroke of luck. He slides his phone back into his pocket and makes his way back home. He stops at a grocery store, milling around long enough for Bokuto to get a good look at him, then subtly loses him in the alley behind it.

Keiji is in front of his loft this time, which is a little better than on his couch uninvited. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m flirting my way in,” Kenma informs him.

Keiji bursts out laughing.

Kenma scowls at him. “Not like you’ve never done it before.”

“I am a great deal more enticing than you,” Keiji says, plainly. At least he doesn’t beat around the bush.

“He likes cute things, it seems,” Kenma says.

Keiji looks him up and down.

“Behavior matters a lot more than looks,” Kenma mutters. In the daylight, he can see the slightly awkward way Keiji holds his shoulder. Kenma finds it appallingly annoying that Keiji is so unbothered by pain. Kenma’s not bad at hiding it either, but it messes up his focus terribly. “All I have to do is blush and dance a little and I’m pretty sure I can get into his house in a week or so.”

“And Bokuto?” Keiji says.

“Will do a background check,” Kenma says, unlocking his loft and sliding the door up. “And find that I’m a designer for a videogame company with no criminal record.”

“Are you prepared to answer questions about that life?” Keiji says.

“Of course,” Kenma sighs, leaning over his shoulder to glare at Keiji. “Do you think I make up fake identities without knowing how to use them?”

“You do tend to half-ass things,” Keiji mutters.

“I half-ass efficiently,” Kenma fires back. “Do you want an icepack for your shoulder?”

Keiji narrows his eyes. “I suppose,” he says, clearly unhappy that Kenma could figure out where his injury was.

“I’ve got ice,” Kenma says.

Keiji makes a face at him, but follows him inside.

-X-

Kenma is considering just writing a chatbot to talk to Kuroo for him. Given the bland sort of conversation they’re having, it wouldn’t be all that hard to get it to be convincing. Still, it might be kind of awkward when they meet at the coffee shop if Kenma can’t actually remember their texting conversations.

At least when they meet at the coffeeshop, Kenma can ogle. Every time he sees Kuroo, he looks more attractive.

“So,” Kuroo says, while Kenma is trying to carry on their conversation on autopilot while graphically imagining drowning Keiji. “Uh… what is it you do?”

It’s too obvious he already knows. “Video game design,” Kenma says. “Nothing fancy, really, just some lighting…”

“Right,” Kuroo says, sounding slightly disappointed for once.

Kenma peeks up at him carefully. Kuroo sees the look and leans forward, crossing his forearms on the table. “I know there’s more to you than meets the eye,” he says. “I’m going to figure out what.”

_Oh_ , Kenma thinks. _So he’s not that stupid._

If Kenma wasn’t on a job, maybe he’d have some fun here, testing just how stupid not that stupid is, but as is, he just shifts nervously and says, “There’s not, really.”

“Uhuh,” Kuroo says. “Are you busy next Friday?”

Kenma shakes his head.

“Want to come over for a movie?”

Kenma’s stomach jolts. _So soon?_ He hasn’t even figured out how to sneak bugs past Bokuto. _Shit_ , he’ll actually have to _work_ for this, won’t he?

Drowning Keiji won’t be enough.

“Sure,” he says, trying to keep the annoyed tone out of his voice. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” Kuroo says, sounding relieved.

Kenma feigns a flattered smile, then somehow stumbles his way through the rest of the date, trying to think of ways to flay Keiji alive.

-X-

He doesn’t even bother going home, just heads right to Keiji’s own apartment. To call it Spartan would be an understatement, but the locks are some of the finest. Nothing on Kenma’s level though. He picks them in under five minutes, then storms into the empty apartment. There’s a single bamboo tree in the corner, as if to mock the utter lack of decoration everywhere else.

Keiji is sitting on the floor, drinking a smoothie. He watches Kenma nonchalantly, though it’s not like Kenma hasn’t tried to kill him before.

“He wants me to go over _Friday_ ,” Kenma snaps.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Keiji asks.

“How am I going to get bugs past Bokuto now? Or check out the house? Or _anything_?”

“It’s only Monday,” Keiji says. “If you really tried, I’m sure you’d be able to figure something out.”

Kenma kicks the cup out of his hand and slams him to the ground, a foot on his throat. Keiji only smirks.

“Why are you really invested in this job?” Kenma growls.

Keiji sighs. “You really aren’t all that threatening,” he says. “Not that I don’t think you’d be capable of breaking bones, but that’s hardly very frightening for me.”

Kenma punches him in the nose anyway, though since Keiji hardly reacts, it’s not very satisfying. Kenma falls back and groans. “I won’t take bugs,” he says. “I’ll just scope it out. It’s not worth it to start thinking of bugs now.”

Keiji rolls his eyes, rubbing blood from his nose. “I don’t understand you. I know for a fact it would take you two days to make all the bugs you wanted.”

“If I wanted to,” Kenma sighs, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t like others imposing deadlines that require effort on me. I do a lot of work allotting my effort, and it’s just rude to force me to replan.” He stares at Keiji. “You didn’t answer me. Why this job?”

Keiji stands up. “I’m sure you’re very busy avoiding work out of spite,” he says. “And I have other jobs to do.”

_Well_ , Kenma things. _Now I have to look for_ two _things while I’m there_. He sighs. Someone could have told him beforehand how much effort to plan for.

-X-

He arrives at Kuroo’s house with a box of cookies in his hand. They’re store bought, but by eating the icing off and putting shitty homemade icing on it, they looked like he baked them. Is the image he’s trying to project someone who bakes? Probably. In any case, it’ll make a better impression.

He rings the doorbell and sighs. Somehow he hates waiting for people to open doors. Too many bad experiences with teamwork, maybe, or maybe he just hates the idea of coming at the wrong time or to the wrong place and having to awkwardly talk his way out of it.

Bokuto opens the door, peering down at him.

“Uh,” Kenma says. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Bokuto says, squinting down at him in what is probably an attempt to be intimidating.

Damn. Kenma’s going to have to pretend this is getting to him, doesn’t he.

He forces the scowl off his face and into his heart and steps inside gingerly. Bokuto takes the cookies from him and sets them on the nightstand. “Sorry,” he says, “but I gotta pat you down.”

“Uh,” Kenma says. “Alright.” It’s not hard to fake apprehension about this. Kenma _doesn’t_ like being touched by strange men. He pushes his hair behind his ears and awkwardly waits for Bokuto to run his hands over his chest and down his thighs. He even checks Kenma’s pockets and shoes, so Kenma is glad he didn’t just try one of his old bugs for the hell of it.

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo says, leaning into the room. “He doesn’t need that kind of treatment. And stop staring him down like that.” He pushes Bokuto aside, and Bokuto squawks at him. He gives Kenma a soothing smile. “Come on inside. Ignore him. He’s just got bad eyesight.”

Kenma is going to murder everyone. He now knows that Akaashi Keiji, one of the world’s best assassins, got shot by someone with poor eyesight and he _cannot laugh his head off._

“You ok?” Kuroo says. “You look a little shell shocked. Sheesh, Kou, what did you do to him?” Kuroo puts his hand on Kenma’s back and steers him into the room, glaring at Bokuto, who is protesting noisily, and Kenma decides that he will be the first to go. If Bokuto shoots Kenma as Kenma is strangling Kuroo, so be it.

 “So,” Kuroo says, sitting him down on the couch as he searches for the remote on the coffee table nearby. “You like romance movies or just manga?”

Kenma is going to shove Keiji into an oven and cook him. “Movies too,” he says, with the obligatory shy ear tuck.

Kuroo narrows his eye at him, leaning an elbow on the arm of the couch further from Kenma’s side. Kenma is glad, because he does not want to think of an alternative to breaking Kuroo’s nose that fits into this act if he gets up in Kenma’s space. “What do I have to do to make you open up to me, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kenma says, staring down at his lap.

“C’mon. I’m not stupid,” Kuroo says. Kenma would beg to differ. “I know a guy with substance when I see one.”

Funnily, Kenma echoes the sentiment, though very much in the opposite direction. “Don’t be so pushy,” he says, trying to sound nervous instead of how annoyed he really is.

“Oh, I’ve been a saint,” Kuroo says, resting his chin on the sofa cushions. “I’m known as an expert of provocation, usually. But I think you’re cute, so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I wish you’d act more yourself around me.”

Kenma risks looking down at his face. His face is open as he rests his cheek on the sofa, watching Kenma lazily. Despite his instinct, he still trusts Kenma. That alone makes him a moron, but the fact that he has the instinct in the first place is possibly the first genuinely intriguing thing about him.

“You just said you’re not yourself around me,” Kenma murmurs, averting his eyes. “But you’re asking me to open up.”

Kuroo grins at that. “Well, if you think you can handle me…” he laughs. He has a hideous laugh. Oh, how Kenma would love to just glare him down.

Instead, he looks down at his hands. “I don’t know. Trust me, there’s not much interesting about me.”

“Aw, come on. We’ll start small,” Kuroo says, bouncing up beside him with a vicious grin. “Come on. What’s your favorite movie? For real?”

Kenma sighs. He might as well throw Kuroo a bone and see how far he can get with it. Given his current track record, Kenma will have to throw him a whole horse before he figures Kenma out. “The Italian Job,” he says.

“Haven’t seen that,” Kuroo says. “What genre is it?”

“Action,” Kenma replies.

“Ah.” Kuroo stands up, searching on his computer. “So you like the thrilling stuff, eh? I figured, what with all the piercings.”

_You’re a real detective,_ Kenma thinks, as he watches Kuroo pull up the first moderately good pirating site he can find. He winks at Kenma. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Gods, maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Kuroo knows exactly what he’s doing and _Keiji_ has actually paid _him_ off to drive Kenma insane. He has to fight the urge to cross his arms by biting the inside of his cheek and forcing himself to smile shyly.

“Let me guess,” Kuroo says. “You’re one of those guys who knows all the pirating sites and proxies.”

It’s the first good guess he’s made about Kenma ever, so Kenma raises his eyebrow. “I guess,” he says. “I work with computers. It’s not a big deal.”

Kuroo sets the movie to download, without putting it in a good folder, then bounces up beside Kenma. “Still,” he says. “I feel pretty proud of myself for getting a look at your wild side. You’ve got a bit of a wild look in your eye.”

“What?” Kenma says, with a genuine, startled laugh. He does not have a wild look in his eye. At most a crime ridden but nonetheless bored look.

Kuroo leans in, enough to leave Kenma wiggle room but also enough to force him to lean back. “Mm,” he says. “Not like a… party sort of wild. Like… feral cat sort of wild.”

“Now you’re just insulting me,” Kenma says.

“No,” Kuroo says. “I like it. You look like something that’d check if I was dead while I was sleeping in case it was fair game to eat me.”

Kenma blinks at him. “ _What_?” he asks. “If you think I’m so coldhearted, why’d you invite me over?”

Kuroo leans his elbows on his knees. “Hm,” he says. “I guess I was hoping you also had a secret cuddly side.”

Kenma wants to punch him in the gut.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kuroo says, grinning at him with the air of someone who’s unwrapping presents. “You said you could handle me at my worst.”

“I didn’t say anything about _worst_ ,” Kenma blurts, before he can help it.

“Ah!” Kuroo says, poking his nose. “I got to you.”

Kenma has to use all his willpower to keep from informing him that if he does that again _he will lose the finger._ He looks away, suddenly unsure what his act would say. Dammit. Kuroo’s right. He _did_ get to Kenma. “You’re lucky you’re attractive,” he says.

Kuroo blushes. “I see,” he says. “So your response to being annoyed is sabotage. How cruel.”

Kenma can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

There’s a ping on the computer as the movie finishes downloading. Kuroo chuckles at Kenma’s reaction and puts the movie on the big screen. He makes at least five mistakes while doing it and Kenma suspects he does it just to mess with him. He grits his teeth and stays silent. He only has to wait for an opening.

The movie starts. Not even halfway in, Kuroo leans over and whispers, “So your thing is crime and betrayal, huh?”

Kenma glances at him, trying to ascertain the pointedness of that remark. Kuroo still is look at him with a soft look. “Maybe,” Kenma whispers.

Kuroo nods solemnly, like he’s unlocked a grand truth, and sits back up.

After a little longer, he leans back. “What kind of car do you drive?” he whispers.

“What?” Kenma whispers back.

“What kind of car do you drive?” He’s practically laying across the sofa, his chin on the palm of his hand.

“I don’t own a car,” Kenma sighs.

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “Motorcycle?” he guesses.

It’s a little too on the nose. “Are you kidding?” Kenma says. “I’d be too scared to ride a motorcycle.”

“Liar,” Kuroo says, and he says it with such sharp eyes that it jolts Kenma into wariness.

“Why?”

Kuroo grins. “I was guessing,” he says. “But you really are lying, aren’t you? You probably dream about riding a motorcycle all the time, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” Kenma says. Technically, it’s not lying.

“Why do you pretend to be more nervous than you really are?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma stares at him. No wonder people want to kill this guy.

Unfortunately, Kenma is just starting to see a sliver of an idea that he might just end up liking him, if this goes too far.

Hmmm?

 He is smarter than he was letting on. Damn. Kenma might actually have to work on this job after all.

“I like to be left alone,” he says.

“Then why talk to me?” Kuroo asks.

_Shit,_ Kenma thinks. He _is_ going to have to work for this. Though this is the first hint that Kuroo might be an interesting person, he hates him now more than ever.

His phone buzzes. Kenma groans inwardly. Why now, of all times? He pulls out his phone and hopes that Kuroo won’t be too nosy. It’s from Keiji. That’s a bad sign. He glances at Kuroo, who is looking away. At least he’s polite about some things.

_Coworker is headed over tonight_ , Keiji’s text reads. _Trying to head them off._

Kenma lets out a breath through his teeth. _Trying_ does not sound good, and if someone _else_ bursts in right when Kenma’s here, it could very well up Bokuto’s suspicions of him. If he wants to look around, he has to do it now.

“Bad news?” Kuroo asks.

“Work stuff,” Kenma asks. “Could I use your bathroom for a second?”

“Sure,” Kuroo says, looking a little concerned. “It’s over that way, next to the study.”

Kenma nods, hurrying to the bathroom, watching for sensors as he goes. He knows the alarm system. It’s good, but not custom, and it seems to be off right now. Which means it’s on outside and on windows. That would make it impossible for Kenma to climb out a window and check out the situation, but if the bathroom is near the study…

He checks to see if the door is visible from either direction. It’s not, so he turns on the light and water in the bathroom, closing the door and carefully opening the door to the study. At the very least he could check where the target is to get an idea of where the chaos will be if Keiji fucks up and he needs to jump ship.

He searches for a moment. There are chemistry books and paperwork everywhere, and, he finds, nothing that looks much like a safe. He pulls out a few drawers before he notices that one of the corners of the painting above the desk has a bit more wear and tear than the others. He puts his finger over the worn part and pushes, and indeed, it swings aside to reveal a safe.

Kenma looks around. There’s very little room to hide. The desk does have a closed structure, so if the alarm goes off he can probably hide if  Bokuto only glances in to check if the room is clear.

Kenma sighs and starts on the safe, lowering his ear to it. He knows the make and the telltale sounds, and it takes him a little under thirty seconds to crack it and grab the envelope inside.

His heart skips a beat. Oh. Oh, this was all too easy, and this _must_ be what they’re looking for, though Kenma is regretting putting off reading all of Keiji’s briefing. He opens the envelope and reads through the pages quickly as he tries to come up with a way to hide this under his clothes.

_Oh_ , he thinks, putting back the papers into the envelope. _Oh_.

His phone buzzes again. _Bad coworker. 15 minutes if you want a ride out._

Kenma bites his lip and curses every single god he can think of as he calls Keiji. “I’m not leaving,” he says.

“Maybe my text wasn’t clear enough,” Keiji says. “In 15 minutes, one of the most brutal, overly aggressive assassins will be on your ass. You have 14 minutes to _leave_ , because they’re likely going to _blow up the house_.”

“He’s taking down traffickers within the government,” Kenma says. “They want the evidence, but they’re hiring assassins because they want him dead first and foremost.”

There’s silence on the end of the line. “That,” Keiji says, “is very explicitly against my rules.”

“Whoever employed you left the details out, clearly,” Kenma says.

Keiji groans. “You’re shitting me,” he says. “You’re…” He lets out an even angrier sigh. “Destiny,” he mutters. “I hate it. Tell Bokuto to be on guard, I’ll try to take out the assassin before he gets to you. Dammit!”

Kenma hangs up and hurries back to the room. Kuroo glances up at him and Kenma sighs. He hates awkward conversations.

“Wait,” Kuroo says, sitting up straight as a rod. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Kenma says. “Also I will explain later, but there’s an arsonist on his way to kill you right now, so we need to talk to Bokuto.”

“Excuse me?” Kuroo says.

“ _Now_ ,” Kenma snaps.

Kuroo stands up. “Kou,” he calls. “Come here, quickly.”

Bokuto sticks his head into the room.

“There’s an assassin headed for the house. All I know is he’s aggressive and prone to explosives.”

Is something missing here? Maybe a Bokuto reply?

“Wait,” Kuroo says. “You’re clearly stealing the envelope. How do we know this isn’t your exit strategy?”

“Are you genuinely stupid?” Kenma snaps. “Ten minutes, at the most,” he tells Bokuto.

Bokuto squints at him, then nods. “Stay here,” he tells Kuroo, then points at Kenma. “You come with me, though.”

“Uh,” Kenma says. “No.”

Bokuto reaches back and grabs him. “Just because I believe you doesn’t mean I trust you,” he says. “So come on.” His grip is like iron around Kenma’s wrist.

“I hate this,” Kenma says.

“That’s what a life of crime gets ya,” Bokuto says cheerfully as he picks up a sniper rifle from the kitchen.

“No,” Kenma says. He has never been on a job quite as bad as this one. Ever. “No, _this_ is what being friends with Keiji gets me.”

“Keiji’s are a funny bunch,” Bokuto says, as he peers out the window, sliding it open just a little. “My soulmate’s named Keiji. We met in college once, and the second we saw each other’s marks, he jumped over a moving car to hide from me.”

“You’re _shitting_ me,” Kenma cries. “ _That’s_ what this is about?”

“Huh?” Bokuto says, letting go of Kenma’s arm to aim into the dark. He might have poor eyesight, but clearly he has a superhuman sense for movement.

“Do you generally shoot to kill?” Kenma asks. He somehow doubts that Keiji would call anyone overly aggressive if they were as subtle as him.

“Try not to on the first shot,” Koutarou says. “Why?”

“No reason,” Kenma says.

There’s a bang and then a sudden, “ _KENMA!”_ from the bushes outside.

Bokuto frowns.

“That’s my friend,” Kenma explains.

“Oh,” Bokuto says. “Coulda said something.” He opens the window. “Come on up, you’ll have a better view from in here.”

Keiji slowly pokes his head out from the bushes. Bokuto extends his hand, and Keiji takes it reluctantly, letting Bokuto pull him into the kitchen. He sighs, checking his shirt for blood. “Thanks for letting him know I was out there,” he tells Kenma. “I really wanted to get shot twice by the same person.”

“Did you know he’s nearsighted?” Kenma asks as casually as he can, finally earning a murderous glare from Keiji.

“Wait,” Bokuto says, squinting. “You’re…”

“Where is Kuroo-san?” Keiji asks quickly. “We should cover him from all sides.”

“In the room without windows,” Bokuto says. “The study is on the other end of it.” He eyes Kenma. “Since you already stole the envelope, might as well let ya in there.”

“I would like to stay in the room with Kuroo,” Kenma says. “The room without windows.”

Bokuto sighs. “Can you fight?”

Kenma narrows his eyes. “I can. I would also not like to.”

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to leave you in there with Tetsu, you gotta look out for him.”

Kenma narrows his eyes even further. “Again. I do not want to do that.”

“I’ll give you a gun,” Bokuto says. “And if he gets hurt, you’ll get hurt worse, so don’t try anything funny, ok?”

Kenma scowls at him.

“That goes for both of ya,” Bokuto says.

Keiji pointedly does not look at him, but he nods. He makes to move to the nearest room but Bokuto suddenly changes course, diving behind Keiji to wrap an arm around his waist and lift him bodily away. It takes a moment for it to be obvious why he did it, because the grenade that smashes through the window lands only a half a meter from where Keiji was, and there’s barely enough time for Bokuto to slam Keiji to the ground and throw himself over his head and brace his own before it explodes.

Kenma barely makes it behind a cabinet in time, and his ears are still ringing as Keiji just about snarls, pushing Bokuto off of him. “You… you…” he growls. “I didn’t need your help! Just because you’re my soulmate does not mean I need you!”

“Huh?” Bokuto says, blinking. Obviously, he does not see why he’s being yelled at for rescuing someone.

Keiji makes an odd hissing sound. “It is bad enough you showed up in my life _again_ but you are _not_ going to _best_ me too!”

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Kenma groans. “Good _bye_.” He lowers himself to his elbows and knees and crawls out of the room as another grenade flies through one of the windows, followed by someone with a machine gun, forcing Bokuto and Keiji to grab their guns and close the distance between them so they can cover each other.

Kenma finds Kuroo behind the couch. Though he looks panicked enough, he’s clearly thinking. Kenma crawls beside him, huffing and blowing some of the hair out of his face.

“We need a better hiding place,” Kuroo whispers.

Kenma glares at him. “I’m not taking the advice of a guy who thought it was a good idea to invite a stranger into his house while half the world wants him dead.”

Kuroo glares at him. “What’s _your_ plan, then?” he snaps.

Kenma scowls into the dark.  “There’s already one guy inside, and he might have brought help,” he says, which is as close as he’s going to get to admitting Kuroo has a point.

“I don’t think we’ll both fit under the couch,” Kuroo mutters, eyes narrowed as he watches Kenma. He’s probably feeling pretty betrayed right now, but he’s still listening, which bumps him up a notch in Kenma’s book.

Kenma looks at the gap under the couch. He’s not even sure Kuroo alone would fit under there. “You’re too tall,” he mutters. “What’s the closest room to here?”

“Bedroom,” Kuroo says. There’s another explosion and his hands tighten into fists. He squeezes his eyes shut, but keeps talking. “But the bed’s a futon, and the closet is too empty.”

“Window?” Kenma asks.

“Too big a drop. There’s a pit there, because of the basement window, and…”

“I can work with that,” Kenma says, poking his head out from behind the couch. There’s no one in this room, that’s good. Kenma hurries to the door, sliding into the shadowy corner beside it to look around. Everything is concentrated in the kitchen, but Kenma’s suspicion was correct. There must be three guys in there, and though they’re currently in a shootout with Bokuto and Keiji, there’s nothing to guarantee that no one is going to loop around and try from a different window.

“Stay,” he whispers to the dark room, creeping out into the hall and to what he hopes is the bedroom. He opens the door without any noise. There’s no one here either, so he sneaks back, gesturing for Kuroo to follow him.

Kuroo is a lot worse at sneaking past, and Kenma watches the kitchen warily to make sure no one spots them as he pushes Kuroo against the wall, then nudges him to make it to the bedroom while flattened against it. He does it, and Kenma’s forced to award him a few more points for taking instruction well.

“The windows are…” Kuroo starts, but Kenma is already reaching for the sensors on the window and pulling them out from the window. It’s messy and noisy, but given the firestorm in the kitchen, it should go unnoticed.

“Get a better security system,” Kenma mutters, pulling the window open. He shrugs off his shoes, because even going barefoot is better for climbing than boots, and vaults outside. He finds as sturdy a footing as he can and holds onto the windowsill with one hand, holding the other out for Kuroo. “Come on. I’ll lower you down.”

“No offense,” Kuroo says, but he hurries forward to take Kenma’s hand. “But can you bear my weight? You’re like… half my size.

“I’m stronger than I look, now _go_ ,” Kenma says, pulling him forward.

Kuroo huffs, but he clambers onto the windowsill and promptly falls down. The jolt of catching Kuroo with one arm is something he’s going to be feeling for a week, but since it’s a matter of life or death, he can’t really blame Kuroo.

He does anyway.

He lowers him down. “Flatten yourself into the pit as best you can,” Kenma whispers.

Fortunately, Kuroo is wearing a dark shirt and he has dark hair, so he vanishes pretty well into the darkness. Kenma drops down beside him, using his own arms to cover Kuroo’s neck and arms, which are bright enough they might show up. It also means he’s pretty much laying on Kuroo, but hell. At this point, he’s just going to have to suck this night up and lock himself into his loft for the next three weeks to stave off the fallout from exhaustion and sensory overload. He doesn’t have the energy to allot his energy any more.

And then he will hunt down Keiji and whoever hired Keiji under false pretenses and maybe Bokuto for having the misfortune of being Keiji’s soulmate and he’s going to flay all of them.

A couple of guys run past them, seeing nothing, and then there’s silence.

“All of this because Keiji’s pissy about being shot by his soulmate,” Kenma mutters eventually.

“What, them too?” Kuroo grumbles.

It takes Kenma far too long to process that sentence. “What do you mean, _too_?”

“Nothing,” Kuroo grits out. “Nevermind.”

“No,” Kenma says.

“Obviously I had a _reason_ for wanting to trust you,” Kuroo says. “I saw your soulmark the first time we met.”

Kenma doesn’t know what to reply to that, and the gunshots are dying down too, making the silence all the more awkward.

“What, did you just assume I was a total idiot?” Kuroo asks.

“Yeah,” Kenma admits.

Kuroo is quiet under him. “You’re a dick,” he decides. “You’re the _worst_ soulm…”

Kenma hears footsteps and pulls Kuroo further down, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“It’s me,” comes Keiji’s voice. “I think we got all of them.”

Kenma sighs, pushing himself up and then helping Kuroo up after him. He wants to give Keiji a very solid punch in the face, but he wants to duck out and not work at anything again for at least a month more, so he gives Keiji’s latest gunshot wound a halfhearted punch instead.

“I’m done,” he says, running up the wall to grab onto the gutter and haul himself onto the roof so he can escape quickly. He needs to crash and if there’s still something salvageable by the time he’s rebooted, he can salvage it then.

-X-

After three weeks of blaring loud music, living off of cup noodles, showering off the occasional fever and playing video games, Kenma finally checks his phone.

Keiji has sent him a selfie of himself looking very cross at an optometrist’s office. _I don’t know what you’re planning to do to me_ , he says, _but I cannot imagine anything worse than this._ Then, a great deal many minutes later, _This is a date, isn’t it._

Kenma sighs and scrolls through his emails, leaving the texts from Kuroo unread. There’s a few job offers. He marks the ones that might be going on in a timeframe where he might be functional again, and deletes the rest without remorse.

He stares at Kuroo’s name and the haunting (47 unread) under it, then switches off his phone. He needs a real meal and maybe a bath before dealing with that.

He washes his hair, then walks out to one of his favorite restaurants. It’s good to stretch his legs, though he still feels lousy from a three week crash. He orders extra fries to go with the burger he orders, making it feel a little like it’s still a depression meal, but since it’s actual food, no one can judge him.

Not that there’s anyone here to judge him. He sighs, pulling out his phone again to look at the messages, lazily shoving fries into his mouth as he finally starts scrolling through the messages.

_So you disappeared pretty fast._

_Akaashi says you do that and I can expect you three months from now._ Kenma scowls. Keiji is always overplaying his crashes and shortcomings. Technically, it works in Kenma’s favor because this way he has more freedom to work with, but since it’s _Keiji_ he can’t help but feel there’s something incredibly patronizing behind it.

_Still it’d feel nice if you could shoot me a text so I don’t have to trust the guy who nearly killed me._

_Just a “.” will do._

_Or not._

_You suuuuuuck._

_I’m going to send you stuff until you answer me._

_I hope you like cat pictures._

The rest of the messages are almost all strange cat memes. Far too many of them are the chemistry cat meme. They get so particular that Kenma has to Google a few of them just to get the joke. Since he kind of feels just a little bit guilty, he does. They still aren’t good jokes.

_I guess you’re probably not checking your phone at all_ , the texts say at some point. _Make it up to me by telling me your real name?_ Then, _You know since I’m still super mad I think I’m being pretty patient. So you should tell me your real name and like… a hobby of yours._

Kenma sighs.

_Kozume Kenma,_ he texts. _I game. Also I still think you’re pretty stupid._

Kuroo texts back embarrassingly fast. _Well you suck. Want to meet up?_

Kenma groans, leaning his head on his hand as he stares down at the text. _Gonna need a few more days._

Kuroo sends a _:(_ and then _I have to fix my whole house and *you* need a few more days,_ then _Sorry it’s fine._

_Idiot,_ Kenma thinks. If their situations were reversed, Kenma would not be trying to be nice. At all. He sits up, hands mussing up his hair. Someone gives him a funny look and Kenma wants to crawl under the table to finish eating there.

Somehow he manages to avoid that urge and trudge back home.

The apartment feels a little too quiet, just the humming of various electronics and the washing machine’s rattling in the background. It always feels a little like this when he’s getting out of a slump, finally convincing himself to pick up the wrappers for the cooling packs and collect all the laundry that didn’t make it to the basket, but now it feels even lonelier.

It’s not necessarily about Kuroo. Or rather, it’s not as if Kenma wishes he had him here to take care of him or anything. But maybe Kenma had sort of pushed himself too far because of an odd spark of legitimate caring, and that makes the fallout seem emptier, or something.

He sets the second basket of laundry by the washing machine and pulls aside his shirt. He must have overestimated the shirt he was wearing that day. To be honest, it hadn’t been a priority. He doesn’t really like people coming up to him and trying to strike up conversations with him about his mark.

It’s a black cat and it’s facing away, tail curled around itself as it sits in a vaguely imposing way. Kenma has always rather liked it, but he doesn’t like all the people coming up to him with vaguely remembered stories of their relative who has the same mark, or wait, maybe theirs was a paw… his mark just is too common to leave it out.

And he really wouldn’t have guessed that _Kuroo_ would be his soulmate.

Kenma doesn’t care much about soulmates. He’s not immune to romance, but as someone who has to catalogue effort and carefully navigate a world that sometimes seems to be built for high energy people alone, he’s never liked the silly idea that soulmates are somehow easy. That a soulmate is something that will always work out.

Technically, Kuroo had toned himself down in an effort to worm his way into Kenma’s affections, so he must not be entirely in the dark about how much _work_ this is going to be, but still. He’d been _stupid_ , and stupid purely because he’d based his decisions on some weird idea that Kenma must be ok if they’re soulmates.

Kenma certainly isn’t going to make the same assumption, but he’s also not lazy enough to give up on this before he’s really made an assessment about how much energy this will take versus how much energy it’s worth. A relationship with someone he really clicks with could actually end up making his life easier in the long run.

He sighs. He’ll do his laundry and the cleaning, take one day to play through some simple story game and then… then he’ll meet Kuroo and at least talk it out. He just needs to keep an eye on how far things can go before it’s impossible to jump ship if he needs to.

-X-

He finally meets up with Kuroo at the same café they’ve had all their other “dates” at. Since Kenma was nearly fifteen minutes late because… frankly, he doesn’t want to be here, Kuroo is already waiting for him with two coffees. He’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, and he looks a lot more comfortable in them than the usual dress shirt and pants.

Kenma didn’t think he could find Kuroo more attractive, but somehow he does, maybe because now he has some actual feelings attached. He’s not entirely sure what feelings they might be, but they’re certainly… there.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” he says, looking relieved when he sees Kenma.

“Then why get me a coffee?” Kenma mutters, turning around the chair so he can lean forward onto the back of it and rest his chin there.

“Blind faith,” Kuroo says, grinning.

“Even if we’re soulmates,” Kenma says. “Inviting me into your home when people want you dead is really stupid.”

“So I’m a romantic,” Kuroo says, looking away, his grin slipping off his face. “Sue me.”

“You can be a romantic without being a moron about it,” Kenma says. He stares at his coffee. “I’m not heartless. Obviously I understand wanting to put in extra effort because you’re my soulmate, and I don’t put in extra effort very readily. But you were stupid, and it could have gotten you killed.”

“Technically, inviting you over is the only reason I didn’t get killed, Kozume,” Kuroo says, leaning his elbows on the table to give Kenma the most obnoxious look he’s ever seen on a person.

Kenma glares at him, and Kuroo just mashes his fists into his cheeks even more petulantly. “Kenma,” Kenma says. “No one calls me Kozume.”

“Kenma, then,” Kuroo says. “I’m still right.”

Kenma can feel his eyebrow twitching. “You’re lucky,” he says. “If I hadn’t looked in the envelope I would have ditched you.”

“It’s destiny,” Kuroo says.

“ _It’s not_ …” Kenma grits out, cutting himself off. “How much did you know?”

“That the shy shit was an act,” Kuroo says. “And that you weren’t coming clean about stuff. But I definitely didn’t think you were a _hired thief_.” He sighs. “But it’s not like I was totally stupid! I had Kou pull your records and stuff. I guess they were all fake, though.”

“Yes,” Kenma murmurs. “Though I see you toned yourself down quite a bit, too.” Though, to be honest, perhaps he just hadn’t bothered looking hard enough to see the sharpness in Kuroo’s eyes.

“Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention,” Kuroo says. “But yeah. I didn’t know if you were the type to get spooked or something!”

Kenma scowls. “I generally don’t like to work at things,” he says. “But Keiji’s a friend, so I would have likely kept trying even if you were an annoying person from the start.”

Kuroo makes a face at him, eyes narrowed to slits and nose scrunched. It’s kind of adorable. “You guys are _friends?_ ” he asks, sounding appalled.

“Neither of us is a very nice person,” Kenma sighs.

“Clearly,” Kuroo says. He lowers his chin to the table. “Anyway, I don’t mind. I felt pretty betrayed for a while, but I guess now that I know you’re a heartless criminal mastermind, I’m glad you’re not boring.”

Kenma almost smiles at that. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m glad you’re not boring either.”

Kuroo sits up, letting out a very loud sigh. “I think we should start back at the start and get to know each other,” he says. “I mean, I don’t know how I feel, or you feel, but we’ve got enough for  a first date, right?”

Kenma makes a face. “All the way back at the beginning?” he asks.

“Oi!” Kuroo cries. “You should be glad I’m being so forgiving! You robbed me!”

“I _didn’t_ rob you,” Kenma says. “And I didn’t write a chatbot to text you for me either, though I really wanted to.”

“My soulmate is a lazy person,” Kuroo moans, sliding down on his chair. “How could this happen?”

Kenma watches him with a faint glare. “I’ve spent all this time with you before I didn’t even like you,” Kenma says. “You should be glad.”

“That wasn’t even for me!” Kuroo cries. “Anyway, I’m only now getting a sense of who you really are, and since you apparently thought I was just a dumb, boring loser all this time, you don’t know much either.”

To be honest, now that he’s seeing a bit of the life in Kuroo’s personality, he doesn’t mind putting a _little_ work in. But he also kind of wants to mess with Kuroo, if only because the careful, provocative way Kuroo messes with him back seems to be the most intriguing thing about him.

Kenma sighs. “Alright. What do people do on first dates? I’ve only ever been involved with people I already knew.”

“Of course,” Kuroo says. “That’s less effort than a first date with someone new, huh?”

Kenma shrugs.

“Fine,” Kuroo says. “You said you game. Do you do anything else?”

“I go rock climbing sometimes,” Kenma says. “But that’s sort of for work. Same with programming.”

“So,” Kuroo says. “You steal stuff. Do you have… like… a pirate’s code or something? What if you steal something someone really needs?”

“I steal dumb heirlooms from rich people,” Kenma says, trying to control the cross look that spreads over his face. He feels like he’s being questioned. “And I work alone, mostly, so I know no one would get hurt other than me.”

Kuroo hums.

“How about you?” Kenma asks quickly. He doesn’t like directing the conversation, but at least he can get out of the spotlight like this. “You’re a chemistry nerd in politics?”

Kuroo laughs. “Yeah. I did some internships in bad neighborhoods and… I don’t know. I hate politics and all that sort of stuff, but I feel like it’s more helpful than helping one kid at a time. At least, I hope so.” He gets an odd look on his face. “I guess it’s just something I let myself be naïve about. What’s the worst that can happen, someone kills me for sticking my nose in the wrong case?” He grins with a viciousness that Kenma wants to see more of.

_Oh,_ Kenma thinks. _Oh, I do like him_. He looks down at his cup and rolls it around between his fingers. “I do have a motorcycle,” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

He looks out the window to avoid the embarrassment of all of this. “You were right,” he says. “I do own a motorcycle.”

Kuroo bursts out laughing, and Kenma has to look out the window all the more furiously, because Kuroo’s laugh is _hideous_ and Kenma is definitely blushing. The laughter slowly tapers off, and Kenma risks a glance at Kuroo, who is looking at him with a soft, sappy look, his cheek on his fist.

“I can’t wait to get to know you,” Kuroo says. “I can tell already I’m gonna love it.”

Kenma drops his gaze to the floor. “Yeah,” he says, even though he knows it’s going to be work and he’s deeply annoyed by the fact that he doesn’t mind. “Me too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or talk to me on Tumblr! [Tumblr! ](http://dgalerab.tumblr.com/)


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